-Being my first story on my REDUX EDITION! list, Change of Heart will be my first rewritten work. I have over fifteen new chapters planned, with far more history with each character involved, including new characters and involvement. Also, Damian has been nerfed, as he, as I have come to realize, is rather overpowered. Well, I hope you enjoy the new Damian!-

Chapter 0: The Angel Experiment

It was cold. That's all I could remember.

The whitecoats always referred to me as 44619. It was 43992 that gave me my name. She was older than me, but I'm not sure by how much. Maybe seven, eight years. I'm sure she's dead now, but I won't let that hold me back. I never knew any sort of name she went by, and all I knew about her augmentation was that, like me, she had been winged. But I do know that she guaranteed my survival, at least past the expectancy point. My expiration date, so to speak.

I was seven, I think. Somewhere around that age. The white little surgery gown I wore didn't do much to block out the New York winter chill. I'm not sure why laboratories and research facilities never turn the damn heater on, it sure couldn't hurt. Anyway, the temperature only made the metal floor of my crate that much more unbearable. I wasn't sleeping that night, I can assure you. I was careful, trying to avoid skin contact with the floor and walls as much as possible. I had gotten shots that day, my weekly injection of whatever-the-hell. It always made me dizzy, as if I spun around about ten times and suddenly stopped myself. My head would ring for the next day, and the world was never quite sitting still. I vomited a few times, and the whitecoats would drag me out, clean the crate, spray me down with this foam solution that burned a little, then stuffed me right back in. I threw up again on that night, but the ritual was not in full circle like always.

"Hey! Hey, assholes! The kid's gone and puked again! Ya gonna do somethin' 'bout that?"

That was 43992. She, unlike most of us, who had no idea what to think about the whitecoats, hated the resident scientists. She was their "problem child", I heard one of the 'loguers (that's what 43992 called the scientist that kept up lists of who was new, who was old, he was dead, and who was still alive) remark. But she had an interest in me, one I imagine an older sister would have for their little brother. She would sneak in food for me whenever they let her out to eat, seeing as her diet had to be rearranged due to her growth.

"What, ya too busy stickin' yer thumbs up yer asses!? Ah said he's gone and pu-"

One of the double doors at the end of the room flung open, a whitecoat skidding across the floor. 43992 let out a short gasp, which was followed by rushed footsteps echoing from outside the door.

"Damian, git yer head down! Back 'way from the door!"

The other test subjects, confused, followed her orders, as did I. The footsteps grew louder, and indistinct voices were carrying on with an indistinct conversation. Bracing myself for a potential attack, I curled into myself tightly, awaiting the sound of gunfire.

"Start popping locks! Get all of them out of here!"

The voice sounded like 43992, so I looked up, only to see a group of kids, ranging from my age to 43992's, outside, pulling at locks and kicking open doors. The owner of that voice as looked like 43992, but with different clothes. Well, with clothes in general, as we were all in our white robes. With both sets of ears, my human ones and my Norwegian Forrest Cat pair, I could hear someone opening locks and moving toward me. I couldn't see them until they stepped right in front of my crate. They were male, with dark hair and sharp features, his nose slightly crooked, as if it had been recently broken. He struggled with my lock, looking back at the leader girl.

"Max, can I get some help here?"

"Really? The enigmatic Fang can't open a little lock?"

"Don't push it. This thing's more than a few twists of metal. They really didn't want this one getting out."

"I don't get it. He's just a little kid."

"This is Itex we're talking about, Max. Anything' possib-"

"Y'all jus' gonna bicker, or are ya gonna git him out!?"

Both of the two turned to 43992, opening their mouths to speak but thinking better of it. The male tapped the shoulder of another male, this one with sandy blonde hair and pale skin. The dark-haired male guided the blonde one to my crate, who lifted his hands up, running them along the lock. I assumed he was blind, as his eyes weren't even on the lock he was handling. However, after about a minute of fondling the metal structure, the lock came loose, and my door was opened.

"Alright, kid, come on out. I don't bite. Hard."

I must have had an apprehensive look on my face, because he sighed and lifted me from my crate. I could see that some of the other subjects were having a hard time standing, as we spent very little time standing, and that statement only applied to those of us allowed out of our crates. My feet touched the ground, and I trudged over to 43992. Right then, she was the only one I felt safe with, the only one I wanted to see. She wrapped her arm around my shoulders, rubbing her hand on my arm.

"'Salright, Damian. They're gettin' us outta here."

I would have taken solace in that if I didn't see the guards running down the hall. 42992 grabbed my wrist and ran for the other set of double doors, followed by the newcomers and the other test subjects. We ran for what seemed like an hour, with sirens sounding and guards running all over the building. In the chaos, 43992 and I got separated, and I found myself cornered by a guard. I tried my best to persuade him, but my mental abilities had not yet developed fully. He resisted my suggestions and grabbed my arms, which resulted in arms wrapping around his torso and swinging him away. I backed myself into the corner again, watching 43992 struggle against the guard, failing to stop as he knocked her aside. Fear and rage began rising within me, and I could feel my entire existence caving in and expanding simultaneously, just as my muscles were now beginning to do, collapsing and growing, wrapping themselves around my bones in ways they shouldn't have. My skin grew irritated as the growing fur reached up towards my eyes, and fangs shot from my gums as the guard cowered in fear. He had hurt my sister, and there was no way I'd let something like that pass by me. He looked small now, and he was small. A miserable little man who I would destroy in my hands.

"DAMIAN!"

I snarled and turned back, only to find myself growling at 43992. She was frightened at this metamorphosis, just as I was starting to understand what I just did. Fear rose again, this time without the rage, and I bolted, ripping doors from hinges and slamming guards into walls into my fur met with the soft snowflakes of the New York winter. My muscles were untying themselves as I continued to run, hearing words shouted that I knew I should have ignored. Words not meant for my ears.

"You killed your brother!"